


God Creates Dinosaurs

by facelessoldwoman



Category: Jurassic Park (1993), Jurassic World (2015), Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997)
Genre: F/F, Hozier - Freeform, I am Coldplay and I will try to fix you, fashionable lesbians, office politics, this ship is on a maiden voyage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelessoldwoman/pseuds/facelessoldwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isla Nublar is home to the baddest bitches to walk the earth in 65 million years (and also there are dinosaurs). This is the story of two women who rewrote history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Someone New

“Lowery Cruthers,” Claire Dearing drew out the syllables on her tongue, feeling them out, “Is Lowery your first name or your last name?”

“First, ma’am,” Lowery said, “I mean, Miss … I mean, Ms. Dearing … I mean … you can call me whatever you want. Lowery is fine.”  

Claire smiled a warm and gentle smile that touched her eyes; either she found his fumbling charming or she wanted to show him that it was okay to relax.

Zara Young rolled her eyes.

As a personal assistant Zara didn’t get much say in hiring decisions, so she chose to express her opinion through incredulous sighs and suggestive coughs. However, no matter how many times Zara tried her best to warn against obvious losers, Claire would choose the high road and let the human train wreck finish their interview.

When it came to train wrecks, this guy took the cake: Lowery was a professional student fresh from some over-priced think-tank grad school program, and he had clearly never held a real job in his life. The hints of a graphic tee were visible underneath his cheap button up shirt and his clumsily knotted tie. And to top it all off, he was wearing basketball shoes – to a job interview.

Why were they wasting any of their valuable time on _this guy_?

“So, Lowery,” Claire said, “Tell me why you want to work for the Masrani Global Corporation.”

“I love dinosaurs,” Lowery said.

Claire stopped smiling.

“And what makes you think that the Masrani Global Corporation has anything to do with extinct animals?” Claire said, her tone crisp and her face unreadable.

“Masrani bought InGen, along with all of their patents,” Lowery said, “All that property waiting to be developed, all those animals waiting to be claimed – the writing is on the wall: Jurassic Park is coming back.”

Claire closed his file, “We’re done here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come with me,” Zara stood up from her place at Claire’s side and directed Lowery to the door, he followed after her with a look of pure misery on his face.

“What did I do?” he asked desperately, “What did I say?”

Two large men with military backgrounds greeted them at the door, and with a nod from Zara they led Lowery out of the office.

“Thank you for your time,” Zara called after him, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you!”

The door shut behind him with a satisfactory heavy metal click, and Zara turned back to face her boss.

“Thank God,” Zara said, “What a moron.”

“He’s not a moron,” Claire sighed and pressed her fingers lightly to her temple, “He’s the only person in a room full of geniuses to figure out what Mr. Masrani has up his sleeve.”

“Then why did security just escort him out of the building?” Zara crossed her arms tight across her chest.

“Because no one can know what we’re planning,” Claire said, “Not after what happened at the last park, not after what happened in San Diego.”

Despite the courts unsealing the records of the incidents at _Isla Nublar_ and _Isla Sorna,_ the public memory of that time fell into the quality of urban legend over the years. No matter how many eyewitness testimonies were offered, or how many exposés were printed, the stories were too fantastical to be believed. Even the footage of the Tyrannosaurus Rex in San Diego was surreal, like a monster movie intruding on real life. Opening a new park with new safety protocols to protect against old failures was almost like admitting all of the horror stories of the past were real. There had never been a successful opening: Never.

Zara had never even seen a dinosaur in the flesh before, and she had no idea what to expect. It was a whole new world.

“Do you believe things can be different this time?” Zara asked.

“They have to be,” Claire said, “Bring in the next applicant, please.”

*             *             *             *             *

Claire Dearing was on a mission: to recruit the best and brightest minds without casting suspicion. Claire and Zara had been holding interviews at different cities across the country for the last 3 weeks. Their true purpose always obscured, the applicants had been given some piece of misinformation to get them in the door. The people they hired now would become the skeleton crew that brought the new park online. The rest of the staff would be hired 6 to 8 months down the line, after the official promotional announcements.

All of this obfuscation hadn’t attracted the most straightforward people – Lowery Cruthers had probably been one of the least weird people Zara had seen all day. Zara sighed and read the next name on the list:

 _Vivian Krill_.

Zara turned up her nose, imagining a shrill and unpleasant woman who stank of cats and loneliness. The name was intersected with sharp edges and high-pitched vowels.

But when Zara walked into the waiting area she found only one woman left, standing at the window at the far end of the room with her features masked in a dark silhouette.

“Vivian?”

At her prompting, the woman at the window turned and walked toward her. Zara watched the neat, professional way that the woman smoothed her jacket and shifted her purse from one arm to the next. Her orderly honey colored curls tumbled down both of her shoulders and swayed lightly with the bounce in her step. She was wearing a steel gray suit with a royal blue blouse … it brought out the color in her eyes, so blue they seemed to glow.

Moments passed and Zara quite forgot what who she was and where she was meant to be, but the world continued turning.

“Yes?” the woman said.

They were standing next to each other now. This woman was waiting on Zara to make a move, _Oh God_.

“Vivian?” Zara asked. The woman gave her a funny look before Zara realized that she was repeating herself, “Vivian, uh, Krill?”

“That’s me,” Vivian said.

“Follow me please,” Zara said, and she turned on her heel and walked straight to the interview room. After an awkward pause Zara heard the sound of rushed footsteps behind her as Vivian jolted forward to catch up to her.

When they reached the door Zara was displeased to notice that Vivian was clearly taller than her, even though Vivian was wearing flats and Zara was wearing her favorite pair of black suede Jimmy Choo’s.

 _Nothing in the world is ever fair_ , Zara fumed to herself.

“Vivian Krill,” Zara held the door open for Vivian, and then Zara went straight to the chair behind Claire’s and set about the important business of pretending that she didn’t exist. Claire ignored this disruption, and so Zara’s decent into obscurity was complete.

“Vivian, hello,” Claire held out her hand, and Vivian shook it, “I’m Claire Dearing, thank you for meeting us here today.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Vivian smiled, “Thanks for having me.”

*             *             *             *             *

“So what did you think?” Claire asked.

“Hmm?” Zara said.

“About Ms. Krill, Zara,” Claire slapped her playfully with a rolled up folder, “What’s your read on her?”

Blue eyes flashed through Zara’s mind’s eye, unbidden, and she blushed.

“She seemed very polite,” Zara said, clearing her throat. In truth she hadn’t been able to focus very well during the interview. Zara spent most of it trying to shrink in on herself, terrified that she would be called on to speak- now that she finally was asked for her opinion she had even less to say that she had forty minutes ago.

“No, I meant do you think that we can trust her?” Claire Dearing said.

“Trust her?” Zara asked.

“She has a history with Lowery,” Claire leaned over two open folders, Lowery and Vivian stared up from the top of each stack, “They worked together in a research lab six months ago, if one is trouble the other might be as well.”

“What do you have in mind?” Zara asked.

“What would you think about running a … _less conventional_ background check on Ms. Krill?”


	2. Battle Armor

It was just after 8pm, and Zara stood in front of the door to Claire’s hotel room.

Zara wore the little black dress that she kept in her overnight bag in case of fashion emergencies. The shimmering fabric clung to her skin and the neckline sank low; she didn’t have any jewelry with her tonight, nothing that suited the occasion, anyway. Zara carried a pair of black platform high heels, the straps hung limply by her side. Normally Zara felt powerful when she wore heels, but now? Alone in front of Claire’s door and barefoot– she felt vulnerable. Childlike. Her unpainted toes gripped the dark hotel carpet for balance.

“Can I come in?” Zara asked.

The door opened.

Claire was wearing a floor length lavender dressing gown that was so thin it bordered on transparent, the curves of her body dancing beneath the fabric as she moved. At the end of the day Claire’s hair descended into messy curls, no longer under the strict control of her straightening iron. Zara reflected for a moment that Claire’s beauty was something to behold when she stopped trying to fight it into something it wasn’t – when her lipstick rubbed off and a natural blush of good-spirited laughter reddened her cheeks.

Claire grabbed Zara’s wrist and to drag her into the room. She set the high heels on the bed, ignoring them for now. Zara sat in front of a well-lit vanity mirror. Claire began brushing Zara’s hair out even as Zara protested that there was no need, that she looked fine already.

Claire took whatever opportunity she could to play with Zara’s hair – brushing it, braiding it, straightening it. It was probably a lingering instinct from fondly remembered girls’ night out rituals in college, Zara suspected. Zara had fond memories of her own, after all. Claire hummed while she worked, constructing an elaborate up-do that wouldn’t look out of place at a senior prom.

Zara huffed an exasperated sigh.

“Oh hush, you look great,” Claire laughed.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Zara said.

“You love it when I do this,” Claire said, and then she leaned in to whisper in Zara’s ear, _“Come on, just admit it_.”

Zara could feel Claire breathing; she could feel Claire’s hand pressed tight against the small of her back and in response Zara locked into a rigidly straight posture. Zara bit her lip and looked straight ahead, but all that she could see was Claire staring back at her in the reflection of the mirror, daring her.

Claire never flinched.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Zara wavered.

“So serious,” Claire looked away. Claire stood up and resumed stacking Zara’s hair into delicate sections, though without the fire in her eyes from before, “All this time and you still won’t loosen up around me.”

 _Loosen up?_ Zara thought, _How much looser could they possibly get?_

Claire and Zara were so close that Claire treated Zara as an extension of herself, expecting Zara to know what Claire was thinking at all times. Luckily, Zara usually did. After four years together, Zara had a talent for knowing what Claire needed, even when Claire didn’t. But in moments like this, Zara had no idea how to read Claire. She was too afraid that wishful thinking might intrude and ruin everything.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Zara said, more to herself than to Claire.

“You don’t want to do this?” Claire said, “It’s okay to say no.”

Zara searched her feelings, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her misgivings.

“Is this really necessary?” Zara asked.

“Mr. Masrani needs people he can trust,” Claire said.

“I’m not doing this for him,” Zara said, “I’m doing this for you.”

Claire set down the hairbrush and leaned her cheek over the top of Zara’s head, careful not to disrupt the network of braids and bobby pins. Claire sighed, “I already have people I can trust. I have you.”

Zara said nothing, she watched as Claire finished her work on Zara’s hair.

After that Claire insisted on helping Zara with her makeup (even though Zara insisted that she was wearing too much makeup already). Zara marveled at the woman staring back at her in the mirror, she looked dramatic and imposing: her eyes were smoky, her lips were lush and dark, and her hair was pulled up into an ornate knot with delicate strands falling down to frame her face.

But soon Zara would have to go, and in the end it was Claire who ushered her away. Zara lingered by the bed for a moment, spending more time tying on the strap of her heels than she really needed.

“Claire?”

“Yes?”

“I do like it,” Zara said, tugging at a loose strand that dangled by her ear, “When you do this for me.”

Claire smiled and looked as though she meant to say something, but she just wished Zara good luck. Zara paused for a moment after she heard the door close behind her. Outside of Claire’s hotel room the night seemed impossibly large.

*             *             *             *             *

Zara called a cab. Hours earlier she had tipped the valet who drove the applicants back to their hotel to discover if Vivian Krill had any plans for the evening. She discovered that Vivian Krill, like most of the people whom Claire had interviewed that day, didn’t live in the city and she would only be staying for one night. And if you only had one night, where would you go?

“Where to miss?” the driver asked.

“Where else?” Zara asked, “Take me to the only bar in this town worth a damn.”


	3. Like Real People Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is under construction and may have changed from the version you remember reading. There's no excuse really, it's just different now. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Zara was over dressed.

Zara looked out at the crowd through the haze of muted lights punctuated by neon Bud Lite advertisements: the men were loosening their ties and leaning heavily against the bar, and the women were red faced and loud. The dance floor was crowded with people milling about instead of dancing, and the loud speakers were playing _Rocket Man_.

“They’re not even playing _Piano Man_ ,” Zara scowled, “They can’t even be bothered to be clichéd properly.”

“Hey little lady, can I get you a drink?”

Zara looked over her shoulder and a man who looked to be … approximately five years older than her father grinning at her. He might have pulled off the Silver Fox look if he didn’t have a cigarette stained smile, and a perfume cloud to match. Zara held back a cough that threatened to turn into a gag.

“I pay for my own drinks, thanks.”

“Come on sweetheart, it’s a compliment,” the man tucked his hand around her arm, “One drink, what’s the harm in one drink?”

“I’m flattered, thank you,” Zara forced herself to smile even as she pulled her arm out of his grip, “Have a great night.”

Zara walked away as quickly as she could and scanned the crowd for Vivian. She didn’t see Vivian at the bar, but there was a long line for the ladies room and it might be prudent to stick around for a while and see if she appeared anyway. The dartboard was dominated by a young man explaining the proper technique to an even younger woman, and a few feet away a pair of men in backwards ball caps played pool while their friends looked on and drank beer out of dark bottles. The music switched from Elton John to John Cougar Mellencamp, ‘ _A little ditty 'bout Jack and Diane…_ ”

Several men asked Zara for her name, or if she was here with friends, or what she was drinking, and that didn’t include all the men who skipped the subterfuge and stared directly at her chest. Zara crossed her arms and walked on, losing track of the ground she covered as she walked in circles around the bar looking for a familiar face.

Zara was just about to abandon her search when she finally spotted Vivian in a crowded booth in a back corner. Vivian was laughing riotously at something a man whispered in her ear, slapping his knee repeatedly and finally she pushed him away to make him stop. He pulled away with a wolf’s grin, and made a comment to the rest of the group – they all started laugh, too, now that they were in on the joke.

Vivian gave the man a reproach, but there was kindness in her eyes. The man was smiling when held up his hands in concession and walked away from the group.

 _Probably to get another round for the table_ , Zara thought, she knew that if she is going to make her move she needed to act now. Zara walked up to their table, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, but Vivian spotted her immediately.

“Zara?” Vivian said so loudly that she startled one of the women beside her. Vivian stood to make herself more visible and said, “Zara Young? Do you remember me? We met this afternoon!”

“Yes, hello Vivian,” Zara said, aiming for nonchalance.

“I didn’t know I’d be hearing back from you so soon, but I’m so happy to see you!” Vivian said, excusing herself as she got up from her table. The fellow guests made room for her as she slid out of the booth.

Vivian Krill wore a bright aqua camisole and a single gold chain that glittered in the dim light. Vivian’s hair was pulled back into a single French braid that made the shine in her eyes seem even more prominent. Zara couldn’t look away, not that she tried.

“Come on then,” Vivian said, “I’ll buy you a drink!”

Zara followed her to the bar.

*             *             *             *             *

Vivian and Zara stood against the bar, and they were served almost immediately. The bartender told them the specials and asked what they would like.

“Jack and Coke” Vivian said, “On the rocks, please.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender said, and then he turned to Zara, “And you?”

“Same,” Zara said, surprising herself with how quickly she spoke – such decisions never came so easily to her before. Vivian helped her feel certain and at ease with her undemanding smile and casual familiarity, they stood brushing elbows as they waited at the bar. Even in a place where on one knew her name, Zara felt at home.

Vivian tried to start a tab but Zara interrupted her, “This is on me, call it a business expense.”

They waited for their drinks at the closest table, and Zara asked Vivian about her flight home and what she thought of the area. Vivian was polite but she seemed distracted. Soon a man walked up and handed them their drinks. Vivian smiled at him as he gave them their drinks and he promised to check in on them soon and see if they needed anything. Zara could see him at the bar over Vivian's shoulder, he kept glancing at them. Zara wondered how many times they would be interrupted before they would be able to finish their drinks.

"Good service here," Zara mumbled, then changed the subject, “So, what did you think about the interview?”

“I was so nervous at first, but then I saw Lowery got a call-back so surely I must have a shot as well,” Vivian laughed.

“So, you know Mr. Cruthers?” Zara set down her drink. 

“I know _of_ him,” Vivian said.

“From what I heard you two are more than passing acquaintances,” Zara said.

“I met him a few summers ago working on a research fellowship,” Vivian said, “I guess you could say we’re friendly.”

 _Friendly_. The word had a history, one that Vivian seemed unwilling to share. The idea of Vivian and Lowery together, spending all summer in some cramped graduate student lab, sharing private jokes and walking down streets hand in hand, was enough to make Zara want to smash the glass in her hand against the tabletop.

Zara's anger brought her back to the memory of the first girl she ever loved: kissing in the backseat of her parent’s car but never touching in public, watching as her girlfriend dated boys while Zara could only watch - unable to say anything, unable to claim or be claimed. Zara wore the necklace given to her on their first anniversary under all of her clothes, just another secret in a long string of secrets they kept between them instead of speaking the words aloud: _I love you, I love you, I love you …_

Now there was Vivian, staring at her, waiting for her to speak, her expression soft, so soft.

 _You don’t know her_ , Zara thought, _She doesn’t belong to you_.

Zara cleared her throat, “What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Cruthers?”

“You’re not allowed to ask that,” Vivian blushed.

“I’m not _allowed?_ ” Zara raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t … I can’t,” Vivian said, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Zara asked.

 

“Why are you here, Zara?” Vivian said, "Did you even want to see me?"

"What, of course I wanted to see you! It's just that I ... Claire, she wanted to know," Zara took a deep breath, “I came here to find out if you were working with Lowery Cruthers. We need to know if you share the same crazy ideas that he does. I came here to see if you could be trusted.”

"Crazy ideas?" Vivian snorted, "He's not a spy, he's a dork."

"A dork?"

"He wants to believe in all the craziest and most impossible things," Vivian said, "Self-driving cars, 3D printer human organ replacement, and ..."

"And?" Zara asked, and waited.

"Cloning," Vivian looked down at her drink, "I was the one who told Lowery about Masrani Corp acquiring InGen, he got that crazy idea from me."

"You follow Masrani Corp that closely?" Zara asked, impressed. The acquisition was a largely unreported transaction handled by over-paid lawyers known for their discretion. Everyone involved signed a non-disclosure agreement and the company buried the lead with several high profile product releases in the technology division sure to distract the press. An outsider would need to scour the news to even get a hint that the leadership at InGen had changed, and make several intuitive leaps to determine why. Claire was right that it would take a genius to see what Simon had planned - and Zara just found out that their genius wasn't who they thought. 

"Mr. Masrani is the most revolutionary thinker in our generation, certainly he's the most influential." Vivian said, "I've followed his work for years."

"He's not that great," Zara smirked, "He's terrible at tennis."

"You've played tennis with Simon Masrani?" Vivian said. 

"Oh course, he has no patience for golf," Zara laughed, savoring Vivian's stupefaction, "He's my uncle by marriage. My mother married his brother, though my step-father died a few years ago."

"Oh my god," Vivian said, "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"He was a competitive surfer, he died doing what he loved." 

"Drowned?" Vivian asked.

"Eaten by a shark," Zara said.

"Oh my god."

"He went down fighting," Zara said, "The last picture they took was of him punching the shark in the face."

"You're kidding," Vivian said, covering her mouth to hide a horrified smile.

"They used the photo on the cover of National Geographic," Zara said, "I believe that issue won an award."

"He sounds like he led an amazing life," Vivian said.

"He was insane," Zara said, "The Masrani family tree is full of Icarus's, it's a miracle that they've survived this long." 

"It still hurts to lose someone," Vivian said, "Were you two close?" 

"He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, and Simon's been so kind," Zara said, "I don't know where I'd be without him, or Claire."

"Claire, your boss?" Vivian said.

"Yes," Zara said, "We're close, she's a good friend."

"Hm?" Vivian said.

"What?" Zara asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Vivian said, “Is this ... is tonight really all about Lowery?”

Vivian asked, and Zara nodded.

Vivian thought for a moment, her lips in a hard line. After a few seconds she said, "Lowery is a good man, you could use him on your team."

"Is that it?" Zara asked.

“I thought, I thought you came here to see ME,” Vivian said, her voice cracking, “You ditch your boss, you meet me outside of work, you wear _that dress_.”

"My _dress_?" Zara asked.

"

“You want the whole truth?” Zara asked.

“Yes.”

“The truth is thinking about you and Lowery together drives me crazy,” Zara said, “Damn it, that sounds insane, but I don't care.”

 

 


End file.
